


In the Woods

by WildnessBecomesYou



Category: Ratched (TV)
Genre: Cute Date, F/F, Fluff, Mildred Gets Cheeky (TM), Picnics, drunk lesbians in the woods, we all need a little fluff okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27157322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildnessBecomesYou/pseuds/WildnessBecomesYou
Summary: Mildred has never been on a picnic. Gwendolyn decides she needs to change that.
Relationships: Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched
Comments: 24
Kudos: 166





	In the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I had this idea a while back, and when I got home from the grocery store today I just...had to do it, you know? So here we are. 
> 
> Also, I mention a wine and winery. Beaulieu is one of the few Napa Valley vineyards from before the Prohibition that managed to slide through— they survived on making altar wines until Prohibition was repealed, at which point they developed the Cab Sauv that still to this day makes up most of their business! I can’t say I’ve had this wine, but I’m tempted to go get some— the rose even has a 2018 vintage, which wasn’t a bad year for California! 
> 
> Sorry, my wine snob is showing, lmao. Enjoy the story!
> 
> UPDATE: I could not find the Beaurosé at the store by my house, but I did find the merlot, and y'all? Y'all. This is a very good wine.

It’s originally Gwendolyn’s idea to go on this date— Mildred mentions she’s never been on a picnic, and Gwendolyn declares that absolutely must be fixed, and starts looking for just the right place. 

Beaches are too public. Gwendolyn wants to kiss Mildred on this date. There aren’t really any parks that offer privacy, either. But the forests— 

The forests will do, she realizes as they pull up to the Sappho bar one night. No one comes up this way, not unless they’re coming to this bar, and it’s rarely a place people visit in the daylight. It will be safe, peaceful, and honestly quite beautiful. 

She tells Mildred to dress in something “walkable” one morning, heads downstairs to chop and pack away some fruits and vegetables. She’s mildly surprised when gentle hands wrap around her middle, a forehead bumping up against her shoulder blades. “Good morning, sweetheart,” she murmurs, leaning back just slightly while she scoops some sliced bell pepper into a bowl. 

Mildred grunts softly against her back and she chuckles. “Do you need coffee?” 

“Please,” Mildred murmurs. 

Now, Mildred can make her own coffee. Gwendolyn knows this. Gwendolyn also knows that Mildred likes when she makes coffee for her, and it’s early enough that Mildred has her hands all over Gwendolyn, and she’d like to keep this going. So she puts down her knife, wraps a hand around Mildred’s wrist, and shuffles towards the fridge to get to the coffee pot. 

Mildred protests the lack of breakfast as they prepare for the day. But when Gwendolyn hands her a basket full of little finger foods, she presses her lips together and furrows her brow and falls silent. Her confusion grows as Gwendolyn drives them closer to the Sappho bar.

“Are we— is— is that even open?” she asks as they pull up. 

“Oh, no, it’s closed during the day,” Gwendolyn says. “Doesn’t open ’till… four? Maybe later— honestly, I’ve never been before eight.” She climbs out of the car after she parks, coming around to Mildred’s side and opening her door before offering a hand. 

Mildred takes it with a smile. “I thought we were going on a date…?” 

Gwendolyn smiles back at her before retrieving their basket from the trunk of the car. “We are. Just not at the bar— will you grab the blanket?” 

Confusion flits over Mildred’s face. “Are you cold?” 

“No, darling,” Gwendolyn chuckles. “We’re _using_ the blanket.”

Mildred still seems confused, moving hesitantly, but she does grab the blanket. Gwendolyn approaches the bar, moves around the front of it, sweeping to the left. There’s a bottle on the doorstep there, and it has a note wrapped around the neck. 

_Wine, as requested, though I still maintain that whiskey works just as well for a picnic._

Gwendolyn grins. She tucks the bottle under her arm and reemerges from the side porch, striding back towards Mildred. 

The sight takes her breath away. 

Mildred is standing there, toeing at the ground and biting at her lip, both hands on wrapped around the blanket. She looks so shy, so timid, standing there holding the bundle of flannel. Her profile is the very picture of nobility, high, apple-round cheek framing a perfectly slanted nose, a sharp jaw that rounds itself into the softness of her chin. Full lips and long lashes, doe-eyes that blink in the almost-midday sun. 

And the sun lights her up. It illuminates her, brings out the ruby tones in her hair, casts an auburn halo around her head. The sunlight catches on her royal blue coat, too, creating a glow around her like some sort of aura. Her traditional black skirt has been paired with her green blouse, today, the one that fits a little better than the others, shows a little more of the figure she spends so much of her time hiding. Her kitten heels make her smaller, but the little blue things match perfectly to her coat— and keep her a little shorter than Gwendolyn in her heels. 

Mildred looks away from the forest and back to Gwendolyn, her shoulders loosening as she spots her love, and Gwendolyn unfreezes from her place. 

“A gift,” she says as she approaches, raising the pinkish bottle, “from little Mister Liz.” 

Mildred smiles, reaches for it. “Beau— Beaulee—“ 

“Beaulieu,” Gwendolyn offers gently. “Beaurose. Beautiful rose, or blush, depending on how you translate the French.” Mildred blushes and bites her lip again. “Yes, just like that,” Gwendolyn murmurs, leans forward to kiss her. 

Mildred stiffens for a moment, then remembers where they are, and relaxes into it. She leans into Gwendolyn so hard she’s afraid that if she pulls away, Mildred will just fall over. So she steps closer— wraps an arm around her waist— and braces her upright. 

“Come on,” she says when they pull apart, “let’s go find a good place to eat.” 

She leads Mildred into the forest by the hand. It occurs to her that Mildred is giggling, that she’s tangled their fingers together, that the woods have offered them a level of privacy that makes this free and easy. She pushes down the pang at the thought that it can’t always be like this; if she had her way, Mildred would be held every moment of the day, and the world would know Gwendolyn was hers, and no one would so much as look at Mildred again without Gwendolyn by her side. 

But they can imagine it’s like that in the forests. The trees stand tall beside them, surrounding them as pillars of history, silent records of the world around them. The trees bear no judgement. They silently echo the pride in being oneself, in loving who one loves, and they bear witness, protect the love two people share from the outside world. 

They reach a clearing— or a spot that passes for one— and Gwendolyn exchanges the basket in her hands for the blanket in Mildred’s. She’s busy spreading it out, getting it to lay just perfect when she hears— 

“Did you pack a bologna sandwich?”

Mildred’s tone is baffled, and Gwendolyn turns from where she’s crouching to look up. Mildred is bathed in dappled sunlight, her auburn halo back with her, eyes lit up like the autumn leaves at sunrise. There’s a hint of tears in those beautiful eyes, the slight wobble of her chin, and— 

“Oh, darling, of course I did,” Gwendolyn murmurs, holding out a hand to her. Mildred is kneeling next to her in less than a second, face nuzzling into her neck like it was made to be there. “I absolutely refuse to eat it, but that’s why I packed a croissant for myself.”

Mildred laughs against her, and it’s watery, but it’s genuine. She untucks her face from Gwendolyn’s neck and looks up at her with those big doe eyes and Gwendolyn can’t resist kissing her. 

And she can kiss her here, so she does, pours into it all the sultry seduction of their first oysters into it with all the shining good-morning-I-love-you’s they’ve spent together since. Mildred places a hand on her chest and sighs into her. She melts, and Gwendolyn scoops her up, and the trees rustle with whispers of love. 

But lunch does have to be eaten, so eventually Gwendolyn pulls back and flips the lid of the basket open, pulls out their little plates and forks from the side compartment. There’s no glasses, but she does have a corkscrew, so she uncorks the bottle and takes a swig. 

She offers the bottle to Mildred, who eyes it suspiciously. “It’s a bit sweet— it won’t taste much like a red wine would, but it’s got more fruit to it than a white wine.”

Mildred takes the bottle, intentionally brushing her fingers against Gwendolyn’s, and takes a ginger sip. Her eyes light up as the taste hits her tongue and Gwendolyn chuckles, then reaches out to steady the bottle when she takes a bit too large a swig and sputters. 

“Careful there, darling.” 

They fall into a cycle of comfortable silence and gentle conversation. Mildred reveals she’s never really been aware of being in a forest, never taken the time to listen to the birds or scuffles of woodland creatures. She seems wistful about it. Gwendolyn worries for a moment that she’ll be reminded of escapes, of fleeing. She hasn’t realized she’s said it out loud until Mildred reaches for her hand, both their fingers sticky from the fruit they’ve been eating. 

“Those places were dark,” Mildred murmurs, “this place is full of light. I think it’s rather beautiful.” 

Gwendolyn smiles, and it’s full of relief and love, and she tugs Mildred close for a kiss that tastes like berries and pepper and the sweet sting of wine. 

The wine goes quickly after that, and it’s not until Mildred is lying flat on the blanket with Gwendolyn braced above her that it occurs to either of them that they’re drunk in the middle of a forest. It starts a giggling in Mildred, one that makes it’s way up from her belly and through her throat, spreads through to Gwendolyn and interrupts the slide of their lips together. Mildred’s fingers slide to frame Gwendolyn’s face as she touches their foreheads together. Gwendolyn bunches the blanket in the hand that belongs to the arm bracing her up, runs her free hand lazily up and down Mildred’s side.

“I love you,” Mildred giggles. She tilts her head up, opens her jaw for a breath and scoops it back up to meet Gwendolyn’s lips. 

Gwendolyn meets her there, presses her body down to Mildred’s. She echoes Mildred. “I love you.” 

Mildred holds her close and she lets all her bodyweight rest on the small woman. Mildred welcomes it with a light moan, legs falling open to cradle Gwendolyn’s hips, arms wrapping around her to keep her close. She worries that she’ll crush Mildred for a moment. But Mildred accepts the weight, pulls it closer, kisses her hungrily.

And God, yes, Gwendolyn wants this, wants her, but they’re in the middle of the forest. The blanket won’t cushion Mildred very well. And while they’re safe, they won’t be interrupted by anyone or anything, making love to her out here feels too exposed. 

So she pulls back, rests their foreheads together again, breathes deeply. Mildred echoes her breathing, letting her head thump back against the ground. “God, Gwendolyn…”

“Mmm?”

She starts to giggle again. “I want you to take me home,” she laughs, and then her voice deepens and gets a little raspy, “and touch me, all over.”

She pairs it with a squeeze to Gwendolyn’s backside and Gwendolyn is left gaping. 

Gwendolyn thinks she might have a wittier response if half a bottle of wine weren’t coursing through her veins. 

Eventually, though, her reason comes back to her. “I uh… I think I’m maybe a little too drunk to drive.”

“Oh,” Mildred says brightly, pushing up at Gwendolyn. She lifts her body immediately. “You know what they say makes you sober up quicker?”

Gwendolyn blinks, dumbfounded. 

Quick as a shot, she rolls out from under Gwendolyn and to her feet. “Mildred?”

“Exercise!” She bounces on her toes, and then she’s off into the woods, long legs carrying her gracefully off. 

Mildred scrambles to get up and follow, stumbling a bit. “Mildred!” 

She can hear the echoes of Mildred’s giggle, and while the woman certainly has had more practice at running— Gwendolyn shakes that thought away— Gwendolyn is still fast. They bolt through spotlights of sunshine, through green and orange and red and all the colors of the sunset and sunrise. And Mildred laughs the whole way, arms out like she thinks if she runs fast enough, she’ll lift off the ground and fly. Her fingers brush up against the ferns growing wild around them and if it weren’t for everything else she knows about Mildred, she’d mistake the woman for Persephone herself. 

She catches up to Mildred, fingers grasping at the sides of her blouse as she calls “Sweetheart, wait up—“ 

They stumble as Gwendolyn pulls Mildred to her, and it’s some miracle they stay standing. But Mildred turns around in Gwendolyn’s arms as they do, wraps her arms tight around Gwendolyn’s shoulders, pressing herself close. She’s breathless— she trusts Gwendolyn to keep them afloat— and Gwendolyn knows that if fairytales were real they’d be flying. She stumbles a few steps forward before she’s finally able to stop their momentum. 

“Good God, Mildred,” Gwendolyn breathes, cradling Mildred’s head in one hand, supporting her nearly-horizontal stance with the other. Mildred giggles again, nuzzles against Gwendolyn. “I’m afraid I can only pull that off once.” 

“Is that so?” Mildred asks, and it’s teasing, and Gwendolyn groans. 

“Darling, don’t—“ 

But Mildred presses a kiss to her lips, and Gwendolyn can feel the smile, tries to keep her there. Suddenly Mildred is wiggling away, and Gwendolyn tries to keep her there, but Mildred is too slippery to keep hold of. 

Gwendolyn watches her bolt away, go to a nearby tree and pretend to hide behind it. Gwendolyn huffs and spreads her arms out as Mildred bites her lip and waves. “Am I not allowed to kiss my woman?” she calls, feigning frustration, unable to put any real malice behind it. 

Mildred can be infuriating. But Mildred is all things, is everything, and Gwendolyn cannot be mad at her own heart. 

“You have to catch her first,” Mildred calls back, and it’s soft, but it carries so well Gwendolyn hears every single syllable. 

Gwendolyn shakes her head with a smile. And she takes a step forward. 

Mildred lets her get a head start this time, but she does take off. She goes slower this time, too, but it’s still more than a few steps before Gwendolyn reaches her. And this time it’s not so graceful— she trips on a twig as her fingers finally grasp Mildred, and it sends them both tumbling, Gwendolyn instinctively curling up around Mildred to protect her. When they stop rolling, Gwendolyn’s under Mildred, the still-laughing woman bracing her arms on either side of Gwendolyn’s head. 

“Hi,” she chuckles. 

“Does that count as catching you?” Gwendolyn asks in response, lifting a hand to pick a leaf out of Mildred’s hair. “Oh, I’ve made a mess of you, darling.”

“Mmm, not yet, you haven’t,” Mildred murmurs, and Gwendolyn’s breath hitches, and Mildred leans down to kiss her, slow and sweet and the most beautiful thing Gwendolyn’s ever known.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed :) Drop me a line below!


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